Walking on Water
by Karalora
Summary: Viking era. Finland introduces Sweden to an important invention. One-shot.


Walking on Water

Sweden found himself adrift in a sea of white.

The snow had come early, coating the ground, and a succession of clear but cold days and freezing nights had left it crusted and grainy. His boots crunched through with every step, leaving an ankle-deep trail as the only flaw in the crystalline surface. The trail wavered, for Sweden's usually expert navigational skills were stymied by a blanket of fog that had moved into the valley overnight, forcing him to regain his bearings one tree at a time as the familiar shapes of the trunks came into view through the mist. He wasn't worried about getting lost, however—he had made this journey too many times for that to be a concern, and in any case the brightness of the sun filtering through the fog suggested that it would burn off soon.

It was starting to break up half an hour later when Sweden arrived at his destination: the charred stump of a lightning-struck tree on the shore of a lake. He was the first to arrive, as usual. With a sigh of satisfaction, he moved over to the stump, tucked a coin into a particular crevice in the scorched wood as an offering to Thor, knocked the snow off a nearby boulder, and sat down to wait.

Several minutes later, he became aware of a faint, rhythmic whisking sound somewhere out on the lake, out of sight in the patchy fog. It began to grow louder—something was approaching. Sweden leaped to his feet and kept his hand near his dagger, ready to draw. Before long, a manlike figure became visible, silhouetted by the mist, gliding like a ghost over the ice. It was headed right toward him.

"Stay away!" Sweden barked, trying to sound fierce rather than alarmed. He was almost on the point of drawing his knife when the fog parted and the figure was revealed in full.

It was Finland, the very friend whom Sweden was there to meet. He was moving at running speed—somehow—over the surface of the frozen lake in a series of sweeping, striding motions. With every such motion, a drawn-out _scraaaaaaape_ rang from the ice.

"Finland! How..._whoa_!" Sweden exclaimed as the other zoomed close, nearly skidding right up the lake shore. At the last possible instant, he twisted at the hips, using his leading foot as a brake. Sweden saw through a little shower of frost how Finland had accomplished this new feat of locomotion.

He had attached knives, more or less, to his boots. As he walked up the shore, he was balancing on the edges of copper strips. They looked something like miniature sled runners—which, Sweden realized, was entirely logical, since they evidently had much the same purpose.

"Where did you get those?" said Sweden. "Did you make them yourself?"

Finland nodded, undoing the clasps of his cloak.

"It's brilliant! How did you ever think of it?"

Finland shot Sweden a raised eyebrow.

"Er...not that I would expect you to have trouble thinking of brilliant things. Say...do you mind if I take a look at those later? I might want to make a pair for myself."

Finland shook his head and untied something from his belt. To Sweden's delight, it proved to be a second pair of the blades, threaded with leather thongs.

"Are you serious? For me? To keep?"

Nod.

"Well...thank you! I don't know what to say!"

Sweden accepted the gift and sat back down on his boulder to tie the blades onto his feet. They widened toward the top, making a sort of thin platform, but even so he had to pull the thongs uncomfortably tight—the least amount of slack allowed them to simply fold flat under his weight. He found himself speculating about ways to improve the invention before realizing how curmudgeonly a reaction it was to an idea that was very close to miraculous, not to mention Finland's generosity in sharing it with him.

Once Sweden's skates were firmly in place, Finland pulled him to his feet and beckoned to the lake. With mild trepidation, Sweden inched down the gentle slope toward the ice.

He wobbled. A lot. Before he quite reached the surface of the lake, a spot of panic had him hastily dropping back into a sitting position on the ground. He couldn't fall from a sitting position.

Sniggering, Finland marched up beside him

"Best not to rush into things, right, old friend?" said Sweden, embarrassed. "Maybe...show me how it's done first?"

With another nod, Finland went down to the ice, set one foot on it, and pushed off with the other. Instantly, he was gliding again, to all appearances taking no more effort than he would use to walk. Less, in fact, for the slickness of the ice gave him more distance out of each stride than he would have gotten walking on normal ground. He returned and offered another hand up to Sweden.

"All right. I think I see how this works."

Still wobbling, but gaining confidence, Sweden made his way down to the lake surface and followed Finland's example. One foot down, then push off with the other, and then...

He started off well enough, but when he began to run out of momentum, and tried to imitate Finland's striding motion...both feet zipped out from under him and he toppled, landing flat on his back. The impact drove the breath from his body and made him see spots for a moment.

When his vision cleared, he saw Finland leaning over him. Neither concern nor amusement was detectable in his expression, leading Sweden to suspect that he was actually feeling some of both. "I'm all right…" he mumbled. Finland nodded with satisfaction and extended a hand to help him up, expertly bracing his feet in order to avoid slipping himself in the process.

Sweden tried again, going more slowly this time. Paradoxically, he found he had _less_ control over his movement that way. Watching Finland demonstrate changes of speed, turns, starts and stops, and even, briefly, _backwards_ movement, he realized that speed was helpful. It allowed less time to wobble, or made wind on both sides that held you up, or something. It took a few more falls before he really started to get the hang of skating, but once that happened, not only was it more practical than trying to walk directly on the ice in his boots...it was _fun._ He'd never moved so quickly and so smoothly on his own two feet, never even imagined being able to change direction with a slight shift of his weight.

_This must be what flying feels like,_ he thought. And the thought so overwhelmed him that he suddenly felt he had to take a break. He turned and coasted up to the lake shore, only to stumble when he struck land and pitch forward. But he didn't mind—falling in snow was not to be feared.

Finland came up close to him, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Just resting for a moment," Sweden explained. "Finland, do you realize what you've invented here? _Flight_. Or as close to it as people will ever get until we learn the language of birds and can ask them how they do it."

Finland smirked in reply, pushed off again, built up a little speed, and then abruptly leaped into the air, spun about, and landed on one foot, dropping right back into his glide without so much as a shimmy. Sweden's jaw dropped.

A moment later, he recovered his composure and made a self-deprecating smile. "And here I thought I was doing so well... You were saving that trick all day, weren't you?"

Finland nodded, offering one of his rare smiles. For a moment, although the snow was melting under Sweden's body and soaking through his clothes, although his hands were scuffed from his various mishaps on the ice, the world was entirely perfect.

Then a cloud passed over the sun, and the light that filtered through was surprisingly gold-tinted. It was getting to be late, and both countries knew they had best be headed home before darkness fell.

"I think this is the best outing we've ever had," Sweden said while untying his skates. "I hate to admit it, but you usually have better ideas than I do. I would have just gone deer hunting or something." He paused. "You know the others are going to want a pair of these too."

Finland shrugged as if to say that was no concern of his.

"The construction looks pretty simple. I could make them, if you didn't want to bother."

Now a look of shock and betrayal.

"Or not. What should I tell them to expect to trade for a pair? A sheep? Five sheep? A milk cow? A gold crown? A white bear pelt?" He held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture as Finland turned an annoyed glare on him. "We can discuss it another time. But I can't keep these secret for long, and the others will never stop asking how they can get them."

Finland repeated the careless shrug.

"Point taken. See you in a moon's time."

They clasped forearms briefly, before turning to head for their respective homes.

The clouds were gathering overhead.

There would be more snow in the night.

* * *

><p><em>AN: The Finns invented ice skates about 5,000 years ago. The earliest models used shaved animal bones as "blades." Copper blades like the ones described in the story go back to about 200 C.E._


End file.
